


dismantle. repair.

by fictitiousregrets



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, M/M, background gansey/blue - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiousregrets/pseuds/fictitiousregrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just that they had been a two-headed creature for so long. Gansey-and-Ronan. But Gansey had gone off to D.C. without him, and Ronan had dreamt him the world (something new for every night) and now...</p><p>Well, now Ronan was on his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. call this a prelude

**Author's Note:**

> A huge, huge thank you to Jess, Leah, and Vero for betaing this goddamn monstrosity.

When Gansey woke up on Saturday morning, he heard humming coming from the kitchen/laundry/bathroom. This was strange for two reasons: 1) his only roommates at Monmouth Manufacturing were Ronan Lynch, who did not hum, and Noah Czerny, who could not hum and; 2) the humming voice sounded distinctly like the aforementioned Ronan Lynch’s humming voice, which Gansey had had the opportunity to experience firsthand when Ronan had been practicing for the Irish music competitions his father had encouraged him to enter.

      Curious, Gansey pushed the blankets aside and got up, meandering over to the kitchen/laundry/bathroom--the humming got louder as he did so. It was definitely Ronan, but how could it be Ronan? Ronan did not hum. Especially not A Stór Mo Chroí, a song he hadn’t the heart to even listen to since his father died.

      As Gansey got closer, he could hear Ronan begin to sing the last few lines of the old folk song.  “A Stór Mo Chroí, when the evening's mist, over mountain and sea is falling, won't you turn away from the throng and maybe you'll hear me calling,” Ronan sang, and then abruptly cut off as a floorboard creaked beneath Gansey’s foot. Gansey knocked and pushed the door open gently, his right hand still clinging to the door as it opened to reveal Ronan in a faded Coca-Cola t-shirt, and not much else besides. 

      Gansey tried not to look down to check if he was wearing boxers.

     “Morning,” Ronan said, lifting his eyebrows at Gansey’s expression. “Pancakes?”

      Gansey was pretty sure that the look on his face was very, very confused. Coca-Cola t-shirt? Probable lack of pants? Humming in the morning? Either Gansey was mistaken or…

      “I’ll have some,” came the honey-sweet Henrietta accent of Adam Parrish behind him. Adam was in a similar state of dress, except he had pants, alright. Just no shirt.

      Having put together what exactly had gone on while he was with Blue last night, Gansey nodded and pointed at Ronan. “Put some pants on, Lynch.” He clapped Adam on the shoulder as he retreated back to his bed to tug a pair of cargo pants and a polo shirt on.

     “If I can find them,” Ronan retorted, and exchanged a look with Adam that Adam didn’t quite return; the glance was more reprimanding.

     “You have several, if I recall,” Gansey replied mildly.

      Ronan snorted. “Not after last night. What the fuck, Parrish?” Adam had apparently hit his arm. The scolding look became more severe.

     “What was that song you were singing?” Gansey heard Adam ask in his soft voice as he pulled on his Top-Siders.

      He tugged on a jacket and grabbed an umbrella before he could hear Ronan’s answer.

      He knew the story well.


	2. to a lifetime of you.

After Gansey left,  Adam’s chin rested on Ronan’s shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist gently.

     "It’s a real pretty song," he mumbled to the kitchen/laundry/bathroom wall, and turned his face to kiss Ronan’s neck, lips brushing against the tattoo.

      Ronan’s left hand came up to pet Adam’s hair gently as he flipped a pancake with his right hand. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Dad—he used to teach us folk songs. And you already know about the music competitions.”

     "Mm," Adam said, and Ronan turned his head for a quick kiss. "Do you think we scared Gansey off?"

      Ronan snorted. “Yeah. He’s terrified of the thought of our dicks touching.”

      Adam laughed in response and wrapped his arms a little tighter around Ronan’s waist, kissing the space behind his ear gently. “I didn’t think he would be here. Didn’t you ask Noah and Blue to keep him out for a little while?”

     "They did a shit job of it, but Gansey’s… he’ll be fine," Ronan said, sounding like he doubted himself.

      Deep in thought, Adam watched Ronan pour another quarter cup of batter on the pan resting on the small hot plate that had come out of nowhere and seemed to have no electric cord in sight. “You should go to him,” Adam murmured, his speech muffled because of his chin on Ronan’s shoulder. “Talk to him.”

     "Talk to him!" Ronan barked a laugh. "Do you even know me, Parrish?"

     "Yeah," said Adam, resting his cheek on Ronan’s shoulder now. "The Ronan I know communicates with his best friend. His brother."

      It was quiet in the kitchen/laundry/bathroom for a few moments as Ronan flipped his pancake and Adam gave him the time he needed.

      A loud sigh broke the silence, and Ronan nodded his head. Adam kissed his cheek and squeezed him in a hug before extricating himself and snapping the band of Ronan’s skintight boxers once as he departed to get a shirt.

      He knew what it did to Ronan when he wore his shirts. But when he came back, Ronan was gone and on top of Gansey’s hastily made bed (covers pulled smooth yet crooked) was a plate with a stack of pancakes.

     "I didn’t mean now," Adam said to the empty room. He sighed and plucked a pancake off the stack, going to sit on the couch as Noah materialized next to him.

     "He knew," Noah said. He looked at Adam, who nibbled quietly on the pancake, feeling awkward. He’d never entirely gotten used to Noah as a presence. "He just wanted to get it over with. Before he lost his nerve, I mean."

      Adam sighed and leaned back against the couch. He was quiet for a good long while, not thinking, just mechanically eating his breakfast. Noah seemed to be content just sitting there for a few moments, but soon got up and began to play pool by himself.

     "He’d only do it for you," Noah said casually as he barely broke the setup he had painstakingly arranged. It generally took him a while to understand how to get the eight ball in the middle of the triangle. "All of this."

     "Why?" Adam asked, finally frustrated.

     "You should ask him yourself," Noah replied, looking artful with his tongue sticking out between his teeth as he aimed to get a striped ball in a pocket. Missing his goal, Noah tsked and stood the cue up, resting his chin on its tip. "You’re afraid he won’t tell you, but he tells you a lot of things."

      Adam knew he was a good listener, but somehow, he had difficulty hearing Ronan. The trouble was, Ronan rarely spoke with his words. He finished his pancake and went to get another, but not before he heard Noah whisper, “You’ve done this before. He’s told Gansey a million times and you’ve always used it as a sign.”

      This made Adam turn to stare at his dead friend all wide-eyed and frankly a little frightened, but when he did turn, no one was there. The cue stick clattered to the ground and Adam caught his fingers drifting to his left ear. With effort, he made himself hold on to the pancake and wait for Ronan on the couch.

      It was another half hour before Ronan burst back into Monmouth like the beautiful storm he was. Adam had made his way through four pancakes and a stack of thoughts in the time since, and had caught himself wishing for Noah to reappear, but something about him always siphoned Noah out of the air. He wasn’t sure what it was.

     "I talked to him," Ronan said roughly. He was still wearing Adam’s shirt, but somewhere along the way he had indeed found a pair of pants, as per Gansey’s suggestion.

      Adam didn’t push him.

     “‘Do what you want, Ronan’,” he mimicked. “‘I have no business telling you what to do.’”

      It was the way he had found out. Ronan had not told him so much as _showed_ him. Adam thought there may have perhaps been a tinge of jealousy to Gansey’s monologue—how limiting he had found it to be unable to kiss Blue when he had been with her. Now that Gansey was facing a similar problem—except Blue actually _wanted_ to kiss him, which Adam thought made it a little worse—Adam found himself sympathizing. He took Ronan’s hand and kissed his knuckles, pressing the back of his hand against his own cheek.

     "He wanted you to tell him, and he found out instead."

      Ronan made a frustrated noise. He probably felt that Gansey was upset with him, which meant they were fighting, and one of the few people Ronan never fought—not like he fought other people—was Gansey. The others were Matthew and Chainsaw.

_It must be eating him up_ , Adam thought, and drew Ronan closer. He wasn’t having it, though—Adam could see he was fuming, he needed to punch something, he needed to get this out, so he withdrew his fingers and watched as Ronan stormed off to his room. Adam closed his eyes as Ronan slammed the door and started throwing things.

_I can’t kill his demons_ , he had said. How true it was.

     When Ronan was done throwing his temper tantrum, he came back out and sat on the couch away from Adam, sulking. Adam left his hand on the couch, palm up, but studied the pool table intently instead of pushing Ronan. Slowly, he felt a hand take his and interlock their fingers. It was a silent apology in the large empty space that was Monmouth Manufacturing.

     “It’ll be okay,” Adam said. “He’ll get over it.”

      Ronan snorted, showing what he thought of that. Out of the corner of Adam’s eye, he looked vaguely troubled. They had been separating from Gansey for some time now, and Ronan looked like he didn’t like it. This seemed to seal the deal, somehow. Ronan scooted closer vaguely until his side was pressed up against Adam’s and then he just sank into the couch.

     “You talk to him,” Ronan ordered. “I’m done talking.”

      Adam squeezed his hand.

     “No, I’m serious,” he snarled. “I’m tired of this shit.”

     “I know you’re serious,” Adam replied. “I’ll talk to him.”

      Ronan rubbed his face with his hand. Adam didn’t really think it would be so bad, that this was irretrievable. Gansey hadn’t _seemed_ that upset. “I’ll talk to him,” repeated Adam, and kissed Ronan’s cheek. Ronan leaned into it slightly and then huffed.

     “Not now. Eat your fucking pancakes.”

     “Yes, Mom,” replied Adam wryly, though he’d already eaten several.

* * *

After pancakes, Ronan drove Adam to 300 Fox Way and then drove off to go to the Barns. Staring up at the blue frankenhouse, Adam thought of how unlikely it was that Gansey was here.

      It actually wasn’t unlikely. Realistically, Gansey was so in love with Blue that of course he would be here, cosmopolitan nature notwithstanding. Adam entered the bustling house and was greeted with the sight of Gansey sitting at the table with Blue as he entered the kitchen.

      They looked up at him; Blue guilty, Gansey even-faced, even pleased to see him. As if they hadn’t just been talking about him and Ronan, as Blue’s face clearly revealed.

     "Hi," Adam said from his position in the doorway.

     "Hey," Gansey replied, that smile still on his face like nothing was wrong.

     "Can I talk to you? Outside?"

      Gansey smiled at Blue, who looked at him skeptically. She gave Adam a look of absolute confusion, and Adam gave her a look of reply that said he would explain later if she would let him.

      Adam turned and exited the room, Gansey trailing after him and still somehow making it look as if he was the one leading. They stepped to the side, where Blue couldn’t watch their faces—Adam didn’t really feel comfortable with being analyzed at that moment.

      Shifting his weight so that it spread to support his center of gravity, Gansey looked at Adam and then said, “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

     "Ronan." Adam felt his face going hot. "Listen, Gansey—"

     "It’s okay," Gansey interrupted softly. He gave Adam a look that said trust me. As if Adam didn’t trust Gansey with his life. "I wish he had told me, but it’s alright." He smiled. "I’m happy for you both."

     "Then why did Ronan come back angry?"

      Gansey’s expression was wry and amused, and he put his hands in his pockets. “Because he’s Ronan. I told him that it’s his life, and I’m not dictating his decisions for him. He doesn’t need my approval.”

     "But he wants it, Gansey." Adam stared him down. "You know him. No one else’s opinion matters to him."

      Gansey met Adam’s gaze for a few moments, and then he withdrew a hand from a cargo pant pocket to run it through his hair. “Adam, you know that song he was singing?”

      Adam had the sense he was being made privy to something enormous and beautiful, like the paintings of the Sistine Chapel or a particularly magnificent palace, and nodded.

     "He hasn’t…" Gansey took a deep breath. "He hasn’t sung that since his father was killed."

      Something twisted, or broke, or shattered, or dissolved, or maybe all four in sequential order inside of Adam, and he found himself staring at Gansey now.

      Gansey put a hand on Adam’s shoulder, clasping it. “You make him happy. That’s all. It’s enough—no, it’s better than enough.”

     "Then why didn’t you say that to him?" Adam asked, and it came out as if Gansey had punched him in the solar plexus and then shoved him up against a wall and had a hand to his throat and was pressing, squeezing.

      Gansey looked at him curiously. “I did.”

     "Don’t lie to me, Gansey," Adam said, and it sounded like a plea.

     "Okay," Gansey admitted. "So I may have been a little telegraphic."

     "He’s upset," Adam snapped, and it was vaguely reminiscent of the sound lightning made when it cut the sky.

     "I’ll fix it." Gansey looked Adam in the eyes. When Adam looked doubtful, he insisted, "I will. You know me, Parrish." He paused. "Adam."

      There was silence for a minute, and then Adam said, his Henrietta accent caressing his words, “You’d better.”

      Gansey was already taking his phone out.

* * *

While Gansey tried to get a hold of Ronan, Adam wandered back into the house. He had facially promised Blue an explanation, and she would get one.

      Blue’s face was steel and sharpness until the light hit Adam’s face and then she saw something he didn’t. “You okay, Adam?” she asked softly.

      He rubbed a hand over his face and pulled out the chair that Gansey had occupied earlier, and sat down in it. “Ronan and Gansey are having a kind of fight, I guess.”

     "A kind of fight?" Blue repeated, raising her eyebrows.

      Adam half-shrugged. “We, um. Well, you see, Ronan and I…”

      Blue put a hand on his forearm, stopping him, and then drew out the next word she spoke. “Finally.”

     "What?" Adam’s head shot up to look at Blue.

      She laughed. “I’m small, Adam, I’m not an idiot. You two have been super close and getting closer, it’s not like it wasn’t obvious.”

      Adam made a face. “Well, it wasn’t to Gansey.”

     "He’s _Gansey_.”

      It was true enough, Adam supposed. “Anyways,” he continued. “I came out of the room and he was there. He left pretty quickly after that.”

      Adam continued telling the story, up until the bit where Gansey was calling him up for round two.

      When he was done, Blue just stared at him. “Now, Adam Parrish, I know you’re smarter than all that. Why didn’t you just go with Ronan to talk to him?”

     "Are you kidding?" he replied. "And get between them?"

      Blue laughed. “It’s a little late for that, I think. I started that.”

      Adam laughed quietly. “True enough, I guess. But I ended it.”

      Silence suffocated the smoldering remains of their conversation, and Adam was left looking at his hands.

     "I do still like girls too, just so you know."

     "I know, Adam."

     "Okay," he replied. "Just making sure."

* * *

Blue had driven him back to St. Agnes, as Adam couldn’t loiter for too long. He was just finishing up a study session when there was a knocking at the door.

      Setting his pen down, he went to the door and opened it. Ronan was leaning his head against the doorframe, looking tired and like he needed a hug.

     "You have a copy of my key," Adam said instead of giving him a hug. "Why don’t you ever just open the d—"

      Ronan cut him off by advancing towards him, making Adam step back; as soon as they were far enough that the door wouldn’t hit them, Ronan’s hands were on Adam’s waist and he slammed the door shut with his foot as his arms slipped to circle Adam’s waist and he went in for a kiss that made Adam’s head spin and his knees go weak. His left hand was caught limply in between them, but his right was gripping Ronan’s hip like it was a lifeline.

      When Ronan finally pulled back, he grimaced and looked away. “What did you say to him, Parrish?”

      Adam looked right into his eyes, pulling his hand out of the trap to cup his cheek. “It’s not what I said. I listened.”

     "You trying to tell me I’m a bad listener?"

     "You’re better at observing, sweetheart." Adam grinned. "Put those eyes to better use."

      Ronan rolled his eyes, but he was fighting a grin of his own—like any genuine grin would stab him instead of the other person. To hide it, he kissed Adam again.

      This was it, Adam decided. _This_ was how he wanted to feel for the rest of his life—in the confines of that one moment, his paper didn’t matter, nothing mattered. Who was this boy who could decimate his perfectly conceived plans with his kisses?

      A thousand arguments filtered through Adam’s head, but for one minute, one minute only, it would be okay. If one minute could buy him so much, it was worth it.

      And, he figured, having Gansey’s approval wasn’t half a bad achievement either.


End file.
